listening to the sound of heaven shaking
by MinimizeYourself
Summary: They know it's her birthday. They can't forget. So they might as well celebrate.


**A/N: I was feeling like some angsty hurt/comfort. This is what came out. The title comes from the song "Braille" by Regina Spektor. It's about a teenage pregnancy, and while it's not exactly the same situation, it's a beautiful song. So enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. It's a good thing, too. I'd totally screw with the audience's minds for my own pleasure. And then I'd go all Tarantino and kill everyone.**

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><p><em>And it was raining cats and dogs outside of her window<br>And she knew they'd be destined to become  
>sacred roadkill on the way<br>And she was listening to the sound of heaven shaking  
>thinking about puddles, puddles and mistakes<em>

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><p>It's her birthday. That's the first thing he notices about that morning.<p>

He bets Shelby is spoiling her with toys and lacy dresses. He bets she watches educational TV and listens to Baby Mozart. He bets she only eats organic baby food. He bets she's gonna turn into one of those "privileged" kids.

He bets she's perfect anyway.

It's raining. That's the second thing he notices about that morning.

He wonders if the sky is mocking him. Or maybe it's crying for him.

He realizes he's starting to sound like one of those chick poets and promptly erases the thought from his mind.

He can't go back to sleep. So instead, he dreams.

He thinks he wouldn't have been a bad father.

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><p>She knows what day it is. And she's trying to forget about it.<p>

She knows she did the right thing. They wouldn't have been able to raise a child. They can barely take care of themselves.

Still, she thinks she would've liked to have a baby girl she could dress up in lace every morning and sing lullabies to at night.

She thinks they maybe could have been a family. Maybe he could've gotten a decent job to support her and their baby. Maybe they'd have a nice house with a big yard and a white picket fence.

Maybe she's over-estimating what they're capable of.

No, she's definitely over-estimating what they're capable of.

The rain falls in time with her heartbeat.

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><p>He gathers up the courage to leave his bed, and even though he's been awake for hours, he stumbles groggily downstairs, his entire body aching.<p>

He's too young to feel this old.

His mother is cooking in the kitchen, and she either hasn't noticed him, or she's ignoring him. It's probably the second one.

Sarah, however, isn't ignoring him. She's staring up at him from her perch on the kitchen table, her brown eyes examining his sullen expression.

"What's wrong with you?"

He tries to answer politely. "It's nothing. Grown-up problems," he says. No emotion. No sign of weakness.

"You're not a grown-up," she points out. He sighs.

She's right.

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><p>"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he mother asks.<p>

"I'm fine." _Liar,_ her mind screams. She pushes the thought away. She's not lying. She's protecting her mother from her own whirlwind of emotions.

Even after all this time, she hates crying in front of her mom.

She puts on a smile, and her mother sends her off with a yellow umbrella and a kiss on the forehead, and suddenly she's a little girl again. It's too much.

She gets in the car, but she doesn't drive. She braces herself for what comes next.

The first tear falls slowly, almost as if it's afraid to.

But then there's another.

And another.

Her tears fall freely now, rolling down her cheeks as the rain rolls down her window. They burn her skin and cleanse her soul, and everything she's buried deep inside over the past year bursts forth.

She cries for herself, for all the anguish she's been caused. She cries for the anguish she _has _caused.

She cries for him, the boy she might have loved, had she given him the chance to prove his worth.

She cries for Beth, her baby girl she wishes she could've kept. She cries for her most of all.

And without thinking, she calls him.

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><p>"Do you know what day it is?" she asks him.<p>

He doesn't know what to say. He can't say it.

"It's her bir-" she starts.

"I know what day it is," he interrupts.

She sighs heavily, but her breath is shaky and sounds more like a sob than a sigh.

He wonders how long she had been crying before. It's not really something he wants to think about.

She starts again. "Don't come to school today.

"Wasn't planning on it anyway," is his reply.

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><p>She stands on his doorstep, lightly swinging a grocery store bag and shielding herself from the storm. She's about to knock, but he opens the door before she has a chance to.<p>

He's been waiting for her. She suppresses the urge to smile.

He welcomes her into the house that was once her home. She hated it here. She thinks she might still hate it.

She ignores the smell of teenage boy and crosses to the small coffee table in the middle of the room where she empties her plastic bag.

She sees his eyes widen when she places a small birthday cake on the table.

"It's not much and it'll probably taste terrible," she starts, "but it's something." She sticks a little pink candle in the center. "You have a lighter, I assume?"

"Uh, sure..." He hands her his cigarette lighter, but when she tries to flick it, her hands are shaking and she just can't seem to get the hang of it. He lights it for her.

She grabs his hand and drags him onto the couch beside her. She takes a deep breath before starting a chorus of "Happy Birthday." He stares at her face and doesn't join in until the last "Happy birthday to you."

Her grip on his hand tightens, and his vision blurs, and his cheeks are damp, and all he can see is Quinn leaning forward to blow out the candles, and-

Lightning flashes. Thunder crashes.

The room goes dark. All they can see is the storm outside and one tiny, orange flame. She exhales heavily, almost blowing it out.

And suddenly, he begins to laugh. It's a low chuckle, barely audible. He has to admit that the power outage was perfect timing.

She gives him one of those looks. The incredulous one that she's so good at. But as much as she'd like to deny it, his laugh is contagious. A giggle escapes from her lips.

He laughs harder than before, doubling over and clutching his stomach. She buries her face in her hands, and her shoulders shake with giddiness.

It's confusing. They're not sure what they're laughing at, or if they're laughing at anything at all. But it numbs the pain, and that's reason enough.

After what seems like a lifetime, they gain some composure and settle themselves back into the couch. They look back at the cake.

She stares at it intently before parting her lips and blowing out the one candle. She intertwines her delicate fingers with his calloused ones.

"Did you make a wish?"

She shakes her head. "It's not my birthday." He nods in agreement. She rests her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

"We made the right choice," he whispers, more to himself than to her. He rests his head on top of hers, hoping that the gesture comforts her.

And it does, a little bit. She knows he's there.

The rain slowly fades away.

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><p><strong>AN: I don't even know what that was. It was kinda random, I suppose, but hopefully not horrible. **

**Don't even ask what the rain symbolizes. I don't know.**

**Hey, you can review if you want to. It would make me really happy...**


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